Behind Closed Doors
by CallmeCordelia1
Summary: Much goes on behind closed doors, especially for royal newlyweds, Catherine and Henry.
1. Alone Together

Disclaimer: Reign isn't mine

AN: In honour of Henry and Catherine's 482nd anniversary I am posting this. I plan to continue providing there is interest.

He came to a standstill just outside of the carved oak door. The guards stationed at either side stared straight ahead pretending not to notice the nervousness, the anticipation that hung in his features.

How he wanted to impress her, to delight her, to earn the sound of his name rolling off her tongue.

She was no longer a maiden, but what took place last night was little more than an awkward business transaction. The crowded room had hardly been an ideal setting for the young couple to share intimacy in any form. Robed in a gown as pale as her face, his little wife had lain beneath him, her eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling without a trace of passion or pleasure in her features. _Nerves_ , it had most certainly been nerves. Henry admitted to himself that he too had been anxious. Several times he got distracted by the clearing of a throat or a sigh from one of the many witnesses gathered around their marriage bed. He had finished quickly and they laid there in a stunned silence until the sun crested the horizon and her uncle, His Holiness, arrived to check in on the newlyweds. It was a humiliating experience, one he was most grateful would never need to be repeated.

That was all in the past. Tonight would be different. Tonight would be special. Tonight they would be lovers.

In the weeks leading up to his wedding it seemed that everyone had insights to offer the groom-to-be, mainly pertaining to bedroom activities between man and wife. His father's words were as poetic and cryptic to the fourteen year old boy as the man himself was. _'It's best to till before one sows.'_ The constable was a bit more informative, if blunt. He had said that if Henry were to ' _meet with her vigourously and often_ ' her belly would soon grow. Guise, as Henry's most experienced friend, had felt it his responsibility to provide full details of carnal relations, giving special attention, per Henry's request, to what women enjoyed and expected in the bedroom, namely ' _dominance and stamina_ '.

Armed with this myriad of advice, Henry put on his most confident smile as the doors swung open and his bride was revealed to him.

Her head snapped around at his entry and he dismissed her ladies with a wave of his hand. Catherine averted her gaze as he removed his clothing, startling at the sound of his belt colliding with the stone floor. Her tiny form tensed when he climbed into bed next to her, but Henry was encouraged by the way her face lit up at the tender peck he placed on her cheek. With some effort he kept his hand steady as it ghosted down her side to land against her thigh. No perceivable emotions registered in her expression, but he had heard it said that women often feigned indifference at first.

He guided her to lie back and she went willingly down to the mattress. Moving to straddle her, he was careful not to place too much of his weight on her. Henry slowly gathered the lace hem of her nightclothes, trying to catch her attention, but her stare was once again boring into the ceiling.

He chided himself for grinning at her like a fool. It was strange. Most of Court knew him as the sullen, withdrawn second son who never cracked a smile, but now things were different. He had someone who vowed to love him, to belong to him, and he would offer her the same. The notion elated him, but Henry schooled his features into what he hoped was a relaxed expression.

The gown was bunched against her hips when he encountered resistance.

"If you could just-" Before he could finish forming the words she silently moved to comply.

Completely bare to his eyes for the first time was all he could have wanted in a wife. The sight before him was more enticing than he'd ever imagined. His gaze was transfixed on the smooth curves of her porcelain skin, her two soft mounds peaked in pink, her amber locks that seemed to twinkle in the candlelight. Henry felt he might be content to just stare at her forever, until he felt her shivering beneath him. Gently he lowered his body down against her and tugged the covers up around them, hoping the heat that coursed through him would drive away her chill.

His head rocked back as he entered her faster than he had intended. He felt her jump. _Was that supposed to happen?_

Henry took a moment to regain his self-control before thrusting again, this time with a bit more finesse. He continued with increasing speed and force, waiting for her to speak, to moan, to do whatever it was ladies did when overcome with passion. But Catherine seemed a league away. Hazel eyes that shone from within when he met her were vacant. Her sweet, kissable lips had gone white as she clamped them shut. Not to mention, she was still shivering.

 _Is she silencing her pleasure? Or is it pain?_

Her response, or lack of response, was terrifying the inexperienced prince. _Am I doing something wrong? Should I continue? Isn't this what she wants?_ All of the advice he'd been given teemed through his mind in a blur. It was useless. No one had prepared him for this.

"Catherine?" He kissed the prickled flesh of her chest and felt a flood of humiliation when she grimaced.

 _She actually grimaced. My own wife is repulsed by me. I've known her for less than a fortnight and she already can't stand me._

Henry was off the end of their, no, _her_ bed and hurriedly shoving his foot through the trouser leg before he heard a small voice, thick with the accent he had come to adore, call to him.

"My lord?"

Acutely aware of the red flush burning in his cheeks, his fingers fumbled and dropped the damn boot that he couldn't seem to get on fast enough.

"My lor-"

"It's Henry!" He snapped without looking in her direction.

"Please!"

The door slammed behind him. He couldn't bear to stand there and hear whatever excuse she could manage to come up with for her revulsion. Hot tears prickled in his eyes, but he refused to waste them on some common Italian girl.

 _I don't need her! Ladies enjoy my company! Women of station! Pretty courtiers are always giving me their favours, asking for a dance._

Consoling himself with these thoughts, the prince slipped into his cold bed with only the familiar sting of rejection for company.

AN: Alright, darlings. There you have it. Thoughts? Many thanks to Lina for betaing and encouraging me to publish this. Xo


	2. All Alone

Disclaimer: Nope.

AN: Just a heads up there's some sensitive subject matter in this one. Nothing graphic, but certainly dark. Also, just a quick recap of chapter one: on their second night as husband and wife, Henry is hurt and angered by Catherine's apparent distaste for him in the bedroom.

* * *

The reverberation of the slamming door seemed to shake the room, rattling the chandelier crystals, but their trembling could not compare to that of the young bride still buried in a nest of sheets. She couldn't breathe, couldn't feel, couldn't tear her gaze from the door. Her ears rang in the painful silence that descended, her heart thundered frantically against her ribs, her head swam with panic. Hand clamping over her mouth, Catherine choked back muffled sobs. Even so, her eyes were dry out of instinct, as her well-conditioned mind prepared at a moment's notice to plaster on a demure smile should the doorknob begin to turn.

The moments dragged by, each more agonising than the last. The cords in her neck stood taut and she hugged the pillow to her chest. The sobs abated only to be replaced by rapid, shallow breaths, as she teetered on the edge of hysteria.

A barrage of thoughts assaulted her mind, none in the new tongue she had yet to master. _Oh God! What've I done? Ragazza stolta! Damned, foolish girl! What have you done? Maria, madre de Dios, send him back to me. Please, please, please, please. I can do this._ She nodded, affirming it to herself. _I know I can. Per favore, Dio, just let him come back!_

When it became clear that the bridegroom wouldn't be returning, Catherine staggered to her feet, still clutching the bedcovers around her shivering frame. She desperately desired to bathe. More than she wanted her next breath she wanted to submerge herself in piping hot water and scour away the feel of his hands, his mouth on her, but drawing a bath required attendants and she couldn't bear the shame of an audience should she unravel. Instead she settled for the next best option. Using the cold water left in the wash basin, Catherine frantically scrubbed all the places he'd touched and some that he hadn't. Wrists, breasts, throat, thighs. Washing away memories of fingerprints and phantom breaths, her skin was raw by the time she let the washcloth slip from her fingers.

Donning her gown and robe did nothing to alleviate the creeping feeling of exposure. Once she was protectively swathed in yards of fabric the newly made Duchess of Orleans knocked over a vase in her hurry to light every candle she could find. Feeling her legs give out and her vision tunnel, Catherine sank to the floor with her head in her hands.

All her life the lesson had been drummed into the young Duchessina that her only worth, her only security, stemmed from an ability to please and placate. It was all she had known, her sole source of control. Catherine drug herself further into the safety of the corner, wrapping her arms soothingly around herself.

 _Where did I go wrong? Clement said to be still and silent and obliging. He said no boy of fourteen would expect anything more of his bride. Still, silent, and obliging. I was all of those things!_

Glaring down at her quivering hands, Catherine squeezed them into fists, her nails biting into her palms. Her body had betrayed her.

 _But I didn't fight him in any way! I didn't shrink from him! I didn't cry!_

A shudder passed through her at the memories of a time when she did all those things to no avail. Her husband was nothing like those men, she knew it for a certainty. In the brief time they'd been together she had seen that, although he was dashing and had a fondness for attention, he was well-mannered, never over-reaching, almost _protective_ of her. All that he had expected of her this night was his by right and she had been prepared to comply as was her duty, but the time for compliance had passed.

 _I have failed. I failed my husband and my family. Revealed too much. Revealed fear. Weakness. A cardinal sin. He'll tell the King. My uncle will learn of it. I'll be repudiated. Shamed before French Court. Unwelcome in Italy. The games, the lies, were all for nothing. I'm ruined._

In the months leading up to the wedding, His Holiness had, with an abundance of clarity, assured her that this was her only chance. He needlessly reminded her of what was at stake. Her compromised little body, he said, threatened the carefully crafted legacy of the House of Medici. With all of his usual warmth, Clement informed her that he would not come to her rescue a second time.

 _Rescue?_ She hated the word. It implied that he'd made it in time, that she had escaped harm. _That was no rescue. He salvaged the fragments, pieced them together, painted a smile that would fool the world._ With her cheek resting against her knees, Catherine swallowed the emotions that rose in her throat like bile and silently stared into the dancing flame of her taper.

The candles burned low and, as the ominous glow hovering on the horizon rose, her head sank lower. No matter her personal tragedy the sun carried on, blithely unaware, or perhaps simply indifferent to the fact that this was a day of reckoning for a certain Florentine girl. Soft beams of light crept across the dark floor of her chambers, finally touching the ruby ring her husband had placed on her finger just a day ago. A spray of red light refracted in the residual darkness, sparking an idea.

 _I'll go to him repentant, discover what he desires. I'll do my duty. No matter the cost, I will fix this._

The Bible said that joy came with the morning. What she felt stirring in her tired chest couldn't possibly be considered joy, but she valued inspiration and resolve over joy any day.

With a cleansing breath and a quick swig of wine to steady her nerves, she summoned her ladies. Before the sun had dried the morning dew, she was off towards his rooms. Her crimson skirts swishing softly and curls loosely draped over her shoulders, Catherine approached his door and drummed three light taps.

Despite her concern that she was perhaps disrupting his sleep and the overshadowing worry of what would happen if she didn't, the duchess kept her practiced smile firmly in place as the heavy oak creaked on its hinges and her husband greeted her unenthusiastically.

"Yes? What is it you want?"

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AN: I had misgivings about continuing this one for several reasons, not the least of which is that the subject matter is delicate and I only wanted to approach it if I could do so respectfully. Henry is obviously hurt and angry, so he's not terribly excited to see his princess, but coming up he will give her a chance to explain. A huge thank you to Lina for being so encouraging and betaing for me! Xx

Demedicigirl: Issi, you are the sweetest, darling! Your support inspires me! Xx!

lizz204: Thank you so much for your review and you interest in this one!

chelseall83: Your reviews always make my day! Thank you for voicing your interest! I hope you enjoy this chapter from Catherine's perspective and rest assured there will be more to come!

Guest: Well, he didn't go back to her, but maybe it's still salvageable? Thank you for your review!

Katie: Thank you for reviewing! So sorry for keeping you waiting for chapter 2, but I hope it was worth the wait!

somekindofwildgirl: I'm so pleased you enjoyed the first chapter! Hopefully this one worked for you as well. Thank you for reviewing!


	3. Mending the Rift

Disclaimer: I don't own Reign

* * *

 _"Yes? What is it you want?"_

There wasn't a spark of the warmth that she'd previously known to reside in those deep brown eyes. A lesser girl would've withered under his gaze, but her smile had endured frostier stares and harsher tones. At least now he could bring himself to look at her.

"Good day, my lord." When he didn't say it back, she seamlessly continued. "I had hoped we could talk."

"Finally found your tongue, have you?"

The grip of her folded hands tightened as she felt the guards posted at either side of his door smile to themselves, but it was a deceptively casual laugh that bubbled past her lips. "I have, indeed."

He leaned against the door frame, denying her entry, forcing her to ask his permission.

"Might we speak privately?" Her mind was searching for a viable solution should he refuse, but such concerns were waylaid when Henry stepped back into his chambers, allowing her just enough space to squeeze by into his dimly lit study.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed his quill, inkstand, and parchment spread out before the hearth. It seemed that she was not alone in her restlessness this night. The door was closed behind her with more force than was strictly necessary, but her placid expression remained intact. She couldn't afford more mistakes.

"I apologise for calling at this hour."

"That can't be all you came to say." She wasn't surprised by his clipped reply as she watched him stiffly pace the length of the room.

"No." Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips and delicate fingers laced together, preparing herself for the direct approach. "I realise that our time together was cut short. I wanted to express my regret at having disappointed you. My nerves got-"

"We both know that _I_ wasn't the one who was disappointed!" A clap of thunder broke through the ice in his tone.

"Surely you don't think I was disappointed?" Both brows arched, the shock evident in her features was sincere.

"Disappointment wasn't the half of it!"

"I was nervous, certainly, but not disappointed. How could I be when you-"

"Don't lie! I don't need your condescension! I saw you shuddering!"

"Trembling, my lord." She corrected him gently. "My nerves were to blame and, beyond that, there was a draft. The te-"

 _"You grimaced!"_ His shout silenced her, but she didn't step away as he closed in. "When I kissed you, you could no longer hide your disgust! It is obvious that this match displeases you, but the deal has been made and I'm afraid we will both have to endure it."

Catherine ignored the dismissive wave of his hand as he turned away from her. His tirade had offered her one source of relief, at least he wasn't intent on seeking an annulment just yet. "My reaction in no way reflects on you, my lo-"

"Do you ever stop lying? Admit it and be gone!"

"No, I-"

"Out with it!"

"I was frightened!" She took a steadying breath and looked down at her hands smoothing her perfect skirts. "I was frightened, not repulsed."

"You were afraid?" His voice lacked its initial fervor and he kept his back to her lest she see confliction in his eyes. "Of me?"

Inching closer, she tried to read what he was thinking. "No, not of you."

He swallowed hard before turning to face her. "Then what frightened you?"

His unexpected concern caused her smile to reach her eyes, but she had offered him all the truth she could in this matter. "It's just that a bride-to-be hears many things."

"Like what?" A frown, one without a trace of anger, graced his handsome features and his head tilted, as curious as he was worried. _What could they have said to her?_

"Just information meant to prepare a bride for the marriage bed."

"Tell me what frightened you." The command was gently delivered.

"Namely that what goes on in the bedchamber is for a husband's pleasure, not a wife's." He said nothing and his stare lingered on her. She couldn't risk dismissing the topic and angering him all over again and so she continued, her eyes flitting to the hearth. "That a lady doesn't, _shouldn't_ , enjoy such things. It- I was told it could be uncomfortable."

"Was it?" She could sense his trepidation.

"My lord, you're very considerate, but, really, you've nothing to worry." Her mouth formed the appropriate answer without hesitation.

"Catherine, you can tell me." A gentle hand on her cheek guided her to meet his gaze.

"I was being foolish, working myself up." She shrugged. "Please do me a kindness and forget it."

He believed her bashful smile. "Only if you do me two kindnesses?"

She felt her shoulders relax at his apparent acceptance. "Anything, my lord."

"Promise you'll tell me if I- if it ever _does_ hurt."

She lied with a nod. "And the second?"

"Call me Henry." With a warm smile he extended his arm towards her and she accepted it, allowing him to lead her through into the bedchamber.

Immediately she seated herself at the edge of his bed and her fingers went to the ties at the front of her dress, her full focus devoted to keeping them steady. Before the second knot could be undone his hands covered her own.

"No." He removed her hands from the ties, his thumb making small circles against her palm. "Not yet. Not until you're ready."

"I am ready." The response flowed instantaneous past her pristine smile.

"Then we won't continue until _I'm_ ready and all I'm ready for is breakfast with my wife."

His kindness was endearing, but she needed to prove herself. She needed to remove his doubts along with her own, but she nodded silently, resolving that she would please him tonight.

Bringing her hand to his lips, Henry kissed her tenderly before rising and calling for one of his men. "Inform the King that we will not be down for some time yet then send to the kitchens. We would have eggs, ham, pastries with honey, and plums brought up."

As the man withdrew, Catherine retied the ribbon at her front into a delicate bow. "Won't we be expected?"

"I suspect my father will be glad to hear we're reluctant to leave our chambers. Besides, I want us to get to know one another. _Unless you want to go?_ "

Shaking her head, Catherine settled herself more comfortably on the edge of his bed.

"Good." He plopped down next to her, close but not too close. "I've an idea. Do you play chess?"

"Yes, my-" She caught herself. "Henry."

" _Your Henry_ , I like the sound of that." There was that dashing smile that made her cheeks go pink. "Here's the game, _my Catherine_. For every piece I claim, you answer a question and for every piece of mine you take, I answer one."

Henry wanted to kiss the playful smirk that formed on her lips as she challenged him. "Then I hope you're ready to tell all."

The game commenced and pawns were removed from the board with considerable ease and frequency, both members of the royal couple divulging little snippets of themselves. While Henry didn't shy from asking personal questions, seeking to chip away at the block of marble and reveal the masterpiece that was his wife, such probing was foreign and disquieting to Catherine. Her answers were beautiful in their brevity, never lacking conviction, but he wondered if his wife was always so difficult to read.

Removing the last of the pawns from the board, he twiddled it between his thumb and forefinger. "Where would you go if there was no one to stop you?"

"There's much of France I'd like to see."

His foot tapped at her diplomatic answer. "Specifically?"

" _Amboise_." The air of reverence with which she said the word intrigued him.

He'd expected her to say Paris or Lyon. Amboise, although favoured by his father, had always felt too remote for Henri's taste. "Why Amboise?"

Playfully defiant, she arched her eyebrow and leant back. "I believe the rules dictate that you'll have to wait until your next turn for an answer."

Rather than glean personal information through her line of questioning, Catherine observed his body language. She took note of how his posture relaxed the longer the game went on, smiled internally at how his mouth dropped open when she moved strategically across the board, watched him fiddle with the chess pieces when he was debating about what to ask her.

His rook fell to her bishop. "Ask away."

"Where were you born?" She placed the piece in line next to her other spoils.

"Saint Germain. Now ask me a real question."

"A real question?"

"Yes, Catherine, a real question. Anyone in this castle could tell you where I was born. Ask me something else."

Her stomach growled in the silence. "Have you any idea when breakfast will arrive?"

"Soon, I hope. I'm famished." Henry laughed, but refused to be deterred by her witty, evasive humor. "Try again."

"Hmmm…" He tried not to stare as she bit her bottom lip in thought. "Which day of your life would you choose to experience again?"

Although he had fewer pieces left on the board, Henry felt a small sense of victory at having finally gotten a real question out of her. "There was a tournament last spring. They all thought me too inexperienced for the joust, but I broke lances against the best men in France." He smiled at the memory of his cold, distant father clapping him on the shoulder. "I didn't win, but h- _they_ were all so impressed."

"I wish I could've been there."

Returning to the present, Henry's heart leapt at the pride in her features. "Me too."

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AN: Thank you to the most darling beta ever, LinaOso! And thank all of you who are still reading even though I take forever to upload.

Demedicigirl: Issi, you are always so sweet and encouraging! I hope you enjoyed how this chapter turned out. Xx!

Lizz204: Thank you again for reading and commenting! I hope it was worth the wait!

Chelseall83: Thank you so much, darling, for encouraging me in how I handled the circumstances of the previous chapter. It was really important to me that we have that moment where she is allowed to be vulnerable after he leaves before slipping the mask back on. These two make me crazy with their refusal to have open, honest conversations, but I suppose it wouldn't be Cathry if there wasn't something left unsaid lol!

Pickleshibby: Hello, lovely! My joy at seeing you uploading a new chapter spurred me to get myself in gear!

Somekindofwildgirl: Thank you for your review! I was so happy to read that you liked how I handled things from Catherine's point of view. I drew a bit of inspiration from history, in that, her family was known for a certain cold pragmatism and Catherine wasn't the most outwardly affectionate person. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!


	4. Closer Still

AN: Thank you to all of you who have lent your support to this story and to my other fanfictions. I've had this in draft form for some time and have finally gotten into publishable condition. I hope you enjoy!

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 _'You could stay here if you like.'_

She'd thought she understood the implied meaning behind his offer, but now… Now she wasn't so sure.

Henry had graciously allowed her privacy while she bathed and changed into evening attire, only returning once her ladies informed him that she was ready. But instead of joining her in his bed he took her by the hand and led her towards the hearth.

Smiling at her out of the corner of his eye, Henri dropped several large cushions before the fireplace. Catherine hesitated. She threw a glance toward the large four posted bed where she had expected they would spend the evening. Did he mean to… _On the floor?_

"Sit with me." His voice pulled her from her thoughts and she turned back to find him seated on one of the cushions, legs crossed. Seeing him so, some of the tightness in her chest abated. She joined him on the floor, tucking her feet beneath her.

There was an awkward stretch of silence before he spoke. "These were gifts from Suleiman the Magnificent."

Catherine remembered hearing her uncle speak of King Francois' close relationship with the the Great Sultan. Clement disapproved, but she suspected he would change his tune if the Ottomans were to help weaken Spain.

"The embroidery is lovely." She traced along the embellished edge of one cushion.

"This is his wife's work." He gestured to the one on his left.

As she leaned in to better admire the handiwork, her plait fell forward over her shoulder.

Her husband was quick to catch it, running his fingers through the ends. "Your hair's still damp."

A gentle hand turned her so that her back was to him and she felt him draw the ribbon off the end. Slowly, his fingers worked to unweave the plait, brushing through her burnished curls. A shiver- not entirely unpleasant- ran down her spine as his fingertips grazed the nape of her neck.

She felt him pause. "That scent. What is it?"

"Lavender oil." She cleared her throat of that strange breathiness before continuing. "It helps with sleep."

Catherine had to fight to keep herself from leaning back against him as his hands continued to work through her hair. When her own hands went behind her to better support herself, one accidentally landed on his knee. She jerked away, flushing with embarrassment, and turned to him with wide eyes. "I… Forgi-"

A finger to her lips halted the apology. She watched as he took her hand, placing it once more against his knee. "We are husband and wife now. There's no shame in touches."

She stared at her hand resting brazenly against his knee, cheeks still burning, and just as she glanced up, his lips met hers. When his tongue traced along her bottom lip, she felt that shiver again.

Her husband must've felt it too because he broke away to whisper, "Shall we go to bed then?"

She felt herself nod and reached up to accept his hand. Catherine allowed him to guide her to the right side of his bed. Henry loosened the cord of her robe and she closed her eyes. His touch was gentler this time as he began undressing her. When the robe slipped from her shoulders and down her arms Catherine lifted her chin to allow him better access to the ties of her nightgown, knowing it was next to be removed.

Her eyes snapped open in surprise when he withdrew to the other side of the bed.

Perhaps she would be allowed to remain partially clothed? The thought steadied Catherine's nerves as she lifted the covers and laid down on the flat of her back. She focused on relaxing, reminded herself to smile for him, and then she waited.

Her husband was leaned over, grinning down at her for what felt an eternity. Was she expected to speak, to initiate their… _time together?_ Catherine cleared her throat, uncertain how to begin.

With the slightest shake of his head, as though returning from a daydream, he finally spoke. "Sleep well, ma femme."

After another kiss, soft and brief, Henry sank into the pillows and closed his eyes, leaving Catherine in a mixed state of shock and relief.

The hours seemed to lengthen as Catherine lay there. Just as her eyes would droop shut, he'd sigh or shift. Before long he was plastered against her, his arm looping around her waist and a strong leg slung across her thighs. Tensing, Catherine had to stifle a gasp at the unexpected touch. She knew it was innocently done, but the feel of him pressing against her, pinning her to him, it was suffocating. It took all of her resolve to slow the blood that hammered through her veins, but after a while his grip eased.

As it seemed that she would find no rest this night, Catherine turned in his hold to watch her husband sleep. Her movement didn't seem to disturb him. His breaths continued, slow and deep, his chest rhythmically brushing against her. The dying light from the fireplace illuminated half his face. The sight of him so completely at peace helped to alleviate her remaining stiffness.

Tentatively, she reached up and smoothed the dark strands that had fallen across his brow. Henry's lips curled in response to her touch and he nuzzled deeper into the pillows. Encouraged, she let her fingers ghost down his arm to the hand at her waist.

"Catherine." He caused her to startle and she quickly reverted to smoothing the blankets. "The lavender's not working."

"Wh-" Catherine breathed a laugh as his words registered. "I suppose not."

"Are you uncomfortable?" A groggy face, creased with worry, lifted from the pillows to peek at her. "Would you rather return to your chambers?"

"I am pleased to stay so long as I'm not interrupting your rest." Her voice was soft and low.

"Good, I like having you in my bed." As soon as the words left his lips, his eyes widened and both newlyweds were left blushing. "I mean to say that you- that... you're always welcome here- in my chambers." His embarrassment subsided as she smiled sweetly for him. "So what's keeping you awake?"

"It's nothing." When his brow arched at her response, she continued. "Simply that my mind is active tonight."

"Who or what occupies my wife's thoughts?" A smirk played across his lips. _"Me?"_

The pink in her cheeks deepened as she continued to fiddle with the blankets. "You need your rest."

"No more than you. Now, come, tell me what's on your mind."

"It's nothing," she repeated.

"If it's nothing then you won't mind sharing." He drew her closer. "Come, tell me."

His questions, his insistence, his arm tightening around her waist all triggered that sudden, instinctive recoil. Hoping to pass it off as ticklishness, Catherine squirmed and feigned a giggle.

Seemingly convinced, Henry grinned and moved the fingers at her waist. "Is my wife ticklish? Come on, Catherine, tell me what you were thinking of."

"Henry!" She gasped, squirming more vigorously as his touches elicited a very real laugh.

"Tell me and I'll stop."

"I was thinking of our wedding," she lied breathlessly.

He finally ceased his tickling, his touch tender once more. "Was it everything you imagined your wedding would be?"

"It was more than I had dared hope for." The truth was that there had been no room in her life for childish whims and imaginings. Hers was a world of harsh realities and the reality was that she would've married whoever her uncle chose, a marriage that would raise her station and benefit the family. Had the Duke of Milan proven a more valuable suitor, she would've wed the dim-witted Spanish pawn who was 24 years her senior and smiled just as brightly for him.

At the thought, her gaze lifted to find Henry twirling her hair between his fingers. Well, _almost_ as brightly.

* * *

AN: So there is was! I am so sorry for always taking an age to update, but I want to give you all the best story possible and for me that means lots of editing lol. I have not yet started the next chapter, but I can tell you it will be from Henry's perspective since the last 3 were from Catherine's perspective. I hope you all enjoyed it! As always, a huge thank you to Linaoso for betaing! Xx!

pickleshibby: Thank you so much for your enduring support for my writing, darling! It means so much, especially considering how much I adore your writing!

Demedicigirl: I'm so glad you loved the last chapter, hopefully this one was entertaining!

Lizz204: Another long wait, but I hope you enjoy!

Chelseall83: You are such a sweetheart and always manage to make my day with your reviews! Thank you for all of your encouragement and I hope this one delivered! Xx!

EmmatheEvil: Your review was so lovely! I think this period in their lives is really fascinating, both historically and in the show, and I have so enjoyed getting to explore what it may have been like for them. I did try to incorporate bits of history and I'm so pleased you noticed! Thank you so much for reading and commenting!

CathryForever: Thank you so much for your comment! Your story is so lovely and it's wonderful to see more Catherine, and specifically Cathry, stories being published! We need more!


	5. Advance and Retreat

Disclaimer: I own nothing

AN: I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Uni has been keeping me frightfully busy lately, but I hope that this chapter is enjoyable and that I can get some others finished soon.

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Bare fist clenched around the hilt, Henry ignored the pain that shot up his arm with each blow he landed. He swung harder, faster, refusing to relent until either the sword or the bedpost splintered. Again and again the satisfying clang of metal on wood was the only sound to be heard over the blood coursing through his ears.

He and his new wife had ventured from their chambers together for the first time since the wedding. How thrilling it had been to walk hand in hand through the halls of Fontainebleau for everyone to see! He'd even kissed her cheek, paying no mind to the guards and servants that looked on and taking pleasure from the blush that spread from her cheeks to her neck. As the servant moved to pull out her chair, Henry shooed him away and performed the act himself. Furtive glances passed between them every so often and even when she looked away he could see the way her smile lingered on her lips. It was a perfect start to what should have been a perfect day, but their bliss was shattered when his little brother insulted Henry's new bride at the dining table.

Incensed, as any good husband would be at such insolence, Henry rose to his feet, informing Charles through clenched teeth what would happen if he ever spoke to Catherine in such a way again. It was only then that the King intervened, having been distracted by the mistress seated in his lap. King Francois stopped feeding her bites of pastry long enough to defend Charles, his favourite son, and to order Henry to apologise or to remove himself from his sight.

" _ **Apologise?!"**_ He swung again, lodging the blade deep into the wood. With a growl, he prised the sword out, taking a chunk of wood with it, and slung it across the room. It was only then that he saw someone standing in the doorway. Eyes widening, Catherine leapt back as the sword clattered to the floor before her.

His chest was still heaving, but Henry felt his rage ebbing away in the wake of his shame. If it wasn't bad enough that his brother humiliated her over breakfast, now he had gone and frightened her. How she must regret ever coming to France!

After a moment Catherine spoke. "I didn't mean to intrude."

He shrugged, looking down at his blistering palms. "You're not intruding. Besides, you can hardly have wanted to stay at _that_ table." Returning his gaze to her, he watched Catherine kneel and lace her delicate fingers around the hilt of the sword.

"I'm sure he meant no offense." He could see her choosing her words as she studied the sword, testing its weight. "What he said was true, my uncle has not yet paid the dowry. But, Henry, rest assured _he will_. Once that matter is settled, we will all be more comfortable."

"Charles had no right to speak to you in such a way. And _my father_ …" Henry resisted the urge to kick the mangled bedpost.

She approached him slowly, as one would approach a feral horse. He half-expected her to continue defending them, _for no one except Diane ever took his side_ , but Catherine seemed to know that she wasn't going to win this argument.

Turning the sword over in her small hands, she lifted the blade out before her only to immediately lower it again. "This is heavier than it looks. The way you wield it one would think it's made of cotton wool." At the change in subject, the tension in his jaw eased and what she said next even brought the hint of a smile to his face. "It seems that you are as gifted at fencing as you are at the joust."

"Even better." His chin jutted out in a show of confidence. Henry reached out to support the end of the blade for her. "This sword isn't the right size for you, but… I could teach you?"

At her shy nod, Henry turned her to face the bedpost. "Your right hand goes right up against le quillon* and then you place your left just here." Guiding her two hands at the hilt, Henry let her test the weight again. "Better?"

"Yes." The blade began to droop. "Well, somewhat better."

"A rapier would be much easier, but it's good to learn with a variety of weapons. For longswords, holding it like this will give you a bit more control." Wrapping his arms around her from behind, the intoxicating scent of her hair invaded his senses and it took Henry a moment to remember what he was meant to be showing her. "So… umm… Yes, that's good. When blocking, you want to maintain a relaxed hold, but never loose. When striking you may need to grip it more firmly for extra power."

"Like if I need to vanquish a bedpost?" Her body shook as she laughed, sending a glorious rush of warmth through him.

"Yes." Henry cleared his throat. "I can say from experience that it comes in handy for such a task, but I was thinking more in terms of a fight. I want you to be able to defend yourself. I mean, not that you'll ever need to, but it's good to learn." He never knew how to interpret her silences and after a moment Henry continued awkwardly. "Anyway, you're a much better pupil than Marguerite."

"Have you taught your sisters as well?"

"Only Marguerite. I'll teach Madeleine, too... when she's well enough." Thoughts of sweet Madeleine growing more delicate with each passing year, made him sigh.

There was the slightest brush of her fingers against his, so light and fleeting that he wasn't even sure it was intentional until she spoke. "We're fortunate to have you to teach us."

Henry dropped a little kiss into her hair. "With Marguerite's temper, we're all fortunate that I keep the swords locked away."

"I have a feeling she and I will get on splendidly, but perhaps it's best I continue these lessons…" Turning to grin at him over her shoulder, " _Just in case._ "

After practising footwork, which Catherine quickly mastered even those heels she insisted on wearing, Henry set the sword aside. "As I said, you should learn to wield a variety of weapons. A crossbow would be ideal as you needn't get too close to your foe. Someday I'll teach you to use one."

A smirk played across her face. "Or perhaps I will teach you."

" _I see_. So my wife is a huntress?" With each new layer she revealed to him, Henry admired her all the more. "We must put those skills to use someday soon." Feeling pride swell in his chest, he placed a small parrying dagger in her palm.

"Much more manageable," she observed.

"And just as deadly as a longsword if used covertly." Something about the serenity of her features as she delivered a jab to the bedpost told him that stealth wouldn't be a problem. "Good, now on a man you aim between the fifth and sixth rib."

Whipping off his shirt, Henry flexed unconsciously as he turned around. "Find that place on me."

There was another silence, _a pause_ , but just when he thought she wasn't going to do it, the pads of her fingers grazed his back. In the silence he heard her swallow as her hand moved down across his ribs and he had to focus on breathing normally.

"Here?" Henry felt a gentle poke.

He turned to face her. "Good, now on the front you use the nipple as a landmark. Aim just below it." He took two of her fingers and pressed them into the spot. "Here. And you thrust in an upward motion."

Her face was no longer serene but focused, frozen, and he wished for the hundredth time since meeting her that he could read his wife's thoughts. After a moment, Catherine gave a little shake of her head and her hazel eyes drifted down to where their hands were resting, lingering for just a moment on the scar that ran the length of his side.

"It's from an escape attempt." He guided her hand over to the scar. "I don't know if they told you, but my brother and I were Spanish prisoners."

She went very still for a moment before acknowledging him with a shy nod.

"They were always moving us around. We never stayed in the same cell for more than a month. I guess they wanted to disorient us." His tone was distant as he speculated what his captors' intentions might have been. "Anyway, one day we were put in a cell that had a window. The opening wasn't big, but there was just enough space between the bars that we thought I might be able to fit through. I didn't eat for a few days or drink very much, just to be sure. Then one night Francis had me climb up on his shoulders. I was halfway through when a guard spotted me." He could tell she was listening by the way her breath caught. "In my rush to get back down I got stuck and they... They weren't too gentle about getting me unstuck." His voice was strained and he looked up to find her eyes welling with sympathy as her thumb ghosted over the rough skin.

"I heard you were held hostage, too?" The question had been on the tip of his tongue several times, but he could never make himself voice it. Such things were intimate, but if there was anyone who should know her intimately, anyone who would understand, it was _him_.

Catherine's gaze broke away abruptly, her hand slipping out from beneath his. "Yes, I lived in convents for a few years at the insistence of the Signoria." Her response was immediate, almost flippant, so Henry couldn't see any harm in pressing her further.

"They treated you well, then?"

" _Of course._ My godmother was the abbess at La Murate. She saw to it that I had a very comfortable existence." He searched her eyes, but found no discernible emotion in them.

"What about at the other convents?" He had learned that Catherine never gave a full answer.

"Most of my time was spent at La Murate."

"But what of the others?" There was something she wasn't saying. _Were they cruel to her?_ He knew that living among nuns was no guarantee of kindness, but surely her treatment hadn't been more dreadful than what he had revealed. _Surely not._

This time there was a pause as her hands went to smoothing her bodice. "The others, they weren't fond of me. That is to say, they weren't fond of _my family_ , but I was the only hostage they had. They had to handle me with care."

Releasing a sigh of relief, Henry lifted her chin and waited until he had her full attention before speaking. "You should always be treated with care."

* * *

*le quillon- the crossguard of a sword

AN: Thank you to Lina, my lovely beta, for all of your encouragement with this chapter! Once again, I am so sorry to have kept you all waiting!

Alexis20155: I'm so pleased you like the story and the awkwardness between them! Thank you for reading and reviewing!

CathryForever: I am so sorry for keeping you waiting, but I hope this chapter was worth waiting for! I love exploring how things would've been at the beginning of their relationship when they're both so uncertain and eager to please.

chelseall83: Whenever I lack inspiration to write I look back at your comments! Thank you so much for your encouragement and for sticking with me even though I take 8 years to update! I have a little something in the works that was inspired by you and I hope to have it finished before Christmas! xx

somekindofwildgirl: I'm so glad you're enjoying the slow burn! I get frustrated with her as well for hiding so much from him, but she just wouldn't be the Catherine we know and love if she was open and honest lol.

Napstercaster: Thank you so much for reading and for your sweet review! I'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of young Cathry and I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

pickleshibby: I'm so glad you've been enjoying this story! I hope this new chapter was enjoyable as well! I can hardly wait for more of your wonderful writing! xx

demedicigirl: Sorry for keeping you waiting, Issi! I hope this was a good one! xx

Corinna and Martina: Thank you both so much for your patience and encouragement! You are such darlings! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! xx


	6. By Touch

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
AN: So sorry for taking ages to update, but I hope those of you who are still with me will enjoy this chapter!

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 _Astronomia Magna_ \- usually so diverting- lay abandoned in her lap, her restless fingers drumming against its leather binding. Where was he? She'd clearly displeased him, but how? When? Had he been nursing his anger for some time and simply playing the part of the doting husband? That would explain his absence as well as his abstinence.

Each night since their wedding he'd come to her, either to share her bed or to escort her to his own. She always felt like a fool lying at his side waiting for him to mount her as he had that first night, but such thoughts were kept to herself while he played with her hair and wished her goodnight. There were times when she would catch him staring and think to herself that perhaps he might desire her, but his continued abstinence gave her cause to doubt and now, only weeks into marriage, he'd stopped coming to her altogether.

For a moment she considered seeking him out as she had on the second night of their marriage, but that time was different. That night he _had_ come to her, only to leave in a fury. This time he hadn't even come. Perhaps he wasn't angry at all and had simply tired of her. Or was enjoying the company of another.

Draining the phial at her bedside, she rearranged her pillows and flopped back with a sigh. Her arm stretched out across the expanse of the mattress, the sheets cold against her palm. First thing in the morning, Catherine resolved, she would discover the source of his displeasure and find a way to fix it. She couldn't afford to lose what little favour she had, especially not with the dowry still unpaid and no child in her belly.

Smoothing down the coverlets, she pushed out her stomach trying to picture herself swollen with new life. Surely _that_ would please her husband? And her family would at least be pacified. Her uncle had always said that a man's worth was measured by his wit and a woman's by her womb. _Both_ would be necessary to succeed at French Court.

Just as her thoughts began to drift, the shrill screech of hinges jolted her back to consciousness. She bolted upright and peered expectantly toward the entrance to her chambers, only to find that the doors remained unopened. Silently she slipped from the bed and snatched Henry's dagger from the bedside table. The floor was cold on her bare feet, but it was nothing compared to the ice that froze her veins when heavy bootfalls sounded from the shadows. Trembling blade held defensively in front of her, Catherine's voice broke in a high shriek.

" _Guards!"_

"Catherine, it's me!" As the guards burst in, light fell upon the intruder, revealing a filthy figure, his hands raised in surrender. "It's just me."

"Henry?" The blade clattered against the floorboards as her hand went to soothing the painful thundering in her chest. When her ladies appeared in her periphery, Catherine broke from her trance. "Draw a bath."

/-/-/-/-/-/

Her shock and embarrassment had yet to abate when Henry dismissed her ladies, leaving them alone. Her hands were still shaking as she drizzled lavender oil into the bath and watched little curls of steam form in the night air. Testing the temperature with her wrist, she called over her shoulder that the water was ready. His approach was swift and before Catherine could excuse herself she was greeted with the sight of his lanky form already stripped bare. She swivelled away abruptly, steadying herself against the back of the chaise. "I-I'll just.. I can wait in the-"

She schooled her breathing as his arm coiled around her waist to draw her back against him. "Stay with me."

A stiff nod was all she could manage.

When he released her she kept her eyes trained on the far wall, seeing only the vague silhouette of her husband lowering himself into the tub.

For a time there was only the gentle sloshing of water and crackles coming from the fire until Henry broke the silence. "I can't say how sorry I am for scaring you."

"I assure you it was nothing." Her tone was deceptively light as she went to search her armoire for the nightshirt he kept there.

"I really didn't mean to. Francis and I used to use the tunnels all the time to sneak into each other's rooms. I thought it would be fun to surprise you. I- I didn't think..."

"All is well." She'd found the nightshirt, but Catherine continued rummaging through the neat stacks of clothes as a means of distraction. "Please, let's forget it happened."

"If all is well, why won't you look at me?"

There was a pause before she turned to face him, unconsciously clutching his nightshirt to her chest. Her eyes didn't stray from his face, but a blush crept into her cheeks regardless.

"Better." He extended a hand to her, dripping water across the rug. "Care to help me?"

She approached slowly. When she laid her hand in his, he kissed it before placing it in his untidy mass of curls. There was a tinkling of glass as she dropped the nightshirt and reached for another phial. Hesitant and halting, her fingers began to work a sweet-smelling concoction through his hair.

"Why on earth would you use the tunnels when this is the result?" She finally managed to shake loose the cobweb that had tangled itself around her fingers. One hand supported the back of his head as she poured the pitcher of warm water over his hair. He hummed and Catherine felt a rush of warmth where she had never felt it before. With his eyes closed, she allowed her own to stray from his handsome face. At the sight of all that lie beneath the surface of the water, a shaky breath crossed her lips, but when the muscles in his chest flexed, her attention snapped back to his face. To her horror, she was met with a cheeky smirk.

"Usually I can manage it without this result." That he didn't comment on the indecency of her gaze helped ease the sting of embarrassment.

"But," he continued, "it seems that some of the paths aren't as stable as the ones I'm used to using. Part of the floor broke away." When she tensed Henry reached back to stroke her hand consolingly. "No harm done, just a bit of dust."

" _A bit?_ "

She barely managed to dodge the spray of bathwater he sent her way.

"It didn't help that your clumsy husband dropped the candle and had to navigate the rest of the way by touch."

Without noticing, Catherine, too, was beginning to learn her way by touch. She gently combed through his tangles, secretly adoring the way the hair curled at the top of his ears. Brushing wet strands back from his face, her expression turned serious. "Promise me that from now on you will stay only to the paths you know well."

"But now that I know where the weak spots are-"

Her chin set. "It's still dangerous."

"Is my wife angry with me?" He teased her, dragging her around to the side of the tub.

"Henry! My gown! Henry!" She was stronger than she appeared, slipping from his hold and backing out of reach. The roguish gleam in his eye made her smile even as she scolded. "Look at my gown, I'm soaked!"

Henry leapt from the tub, sloshing water over the rim, and snatched up the linen nightshirt that she had dropped. With it wrapped around his waist he dropped to his knees before her. "Forgive me, my lady."

She blushed feverishly, averting her gaze. "Dry off before you freeze."

"Freezing is my penance. I won't move from this spot until I've received your forgiveness." He was knelt before her, clasping her hand, and Catherine couldn't help but laugh at her ridiculous husband's antics.

"You're forgiven, now put your clothes on." Catherine tried to remove her hand from his grasp.

"Ah-ah-ah! Not until I've received a kiss will I believe I'm forgiven."

Both exasperated and amused, she sighed. Shyly Catherine presented her lips to him, her eyes slipping closed. The boards creaked as he rose to his feet. His fingers traced over her cheek, wove through her hair. Only when she raised her lids to see what was delaying the kiss did his lips meet hers.

Physical affection had always been foreign to Catherine. There was a time she'd craved touch- a hand to hold, a kiss goodnight- but the siege of Florence taught her to fear it. Proximity to her person- even in the most formal of circumstances- triggered an instinctive recoil that she had to be trained to suppress but that still managed to rear its head at the most inopportune times. Over the years she'd come to believe that her body could not unlearn its trauma. But this, his unexpected gentleness… It stirred something within her. Something akin to hunger. Her lips began to move against his, responding softly, slightly. He was drawing her closer and Catherine discovered to her surprise that she had no desire to pull away. When their lips broke apart, she looked up in shock at her hand grasping his shoulder. She swallowed as her arms dropped back to her sides.

/-/-/-/-/-/

An hour later Catherine was settled on the chaise before the fireplace, and not lying beneath her husband as she'd expected. After the kisses and touches they'd shared, she thought _surely_ Henry meant to bed her, but he'd slipped into his nightshirt and disappeared out the door before her cheeks even had time to cool.

The door clicked and a moment later she felt a fleece being draped over her shoulders. Henry held before her a tray with a pair of steaming cups on it. She took one, wrapping both hands around it for warmth. Catherine inhaled deeply and recognised the scent of hot spiced wine. As she waited for the wine to cool, her attention began to wander.

"Catherine?" Her gaze snapped back to him, but he'd noticed the way her eyes lingered on the dark corner of the room.

"Hmm?" She hid behind her cup, taking a sip although it was still too hot for her liking.

"No one's going to come through there."

"Does anyone else know about the tunnels?" His pause was all the confirmation she needed. "If the ground is weak, perhaps they should be sealed off. _For safety_." She didn't say that the very idea of someone finding their way into her chambers unannounced sent a creeping feeling down her spine.

"I'm the only one who'll ever visit you that way." He inched closer until he was flush against her side.

Despite her unresolved fears, she smiled for him, that pristine smile that she could flash on command. It was the kiss to the tip of her nose that brought out the dimples on either cheek. He set their cups aside and guided her head down to his chest, his warm arms encircling her. Catherine's eyelids began to droop as his voice rumbled through her. "Sleep now, ma femme."

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AN: Thank you so much to those of you who are still with me! Also a huge thank you to Linaoso for being my beta!

Chelseall83: It means a great deal to me to have your continued support for this little story despite the crazy long wait! Xx!

Napstercaster: I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter! Things have been crazy busy, but I so love when I do get the time to write and getting sweet reviews like yours is the cherry on top!

(Also, ma femme = my wife)


	7. The Act

Disclaimer: I own nothing

AN: My apologies on pulling a disappearing act. I can't say I'll be back writing often, but I have a couple of chapters in the works.

Warning: This chapter gets a bit nsfw.

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Henry roused to find his arms and her bed empty. Before sleep had taken him, all the prince could do was marvel at the way she relaxed against him as she drifted off. The feel of her body molding into his own endeared her to him as no words ever could.

She was _his_. His to love. To protect. To carry to bed when she dozed off on the chaise.

To search for her when she disappeared from his side.

Brushing the sleep from his eyes, Henry squinted and searched the dimly lit room. He found her seated before the fireplace, something white draped across her lap. With a tug the bedclothes came loose from beneath the mattress and Henry tucked them around himself like a cloak.

"What is disturbing my wife's sleep _this_ time?" Her head turned sharply at his teasing question.

As he approached she smiled for him, causing a giddy flutter in his chest. "It's nothing. Go back to bed."

Ignoring her order, he plopped down next to her to examine the bundle in her lap. Fine gold _H_ s were embroidered along the hems of what upon closer inspection were revealed to be a shirt. He looked up to find a bashful Catherine studying his reaction.

Her explanation came in a burst, her accent thickening, and his groggy mind struggled to keep up. "It was meant to be a surprise. I noticed a few of yours were worn. Not that I was snooping, I wasn't. I just saw them and thought- If you don't like it though I can-"

Her babbling broke off when he tossed the bedsheets at her and watched a smile threaten to form on her lips. Henry whipped his nightshirt off and slipped her handiwork over his head, deaf to her warnings about minding the needle. The fit was a bit loose and he thrust his chest out nervously, trying to fill the extra fabric.

With her hands smoothing and adjusting the fabric, Henry only caught half of what she said. "I made it a bit larger than your others. I thought… Well, you seem to grow taller every day and with all your sparring…"

He kissed her then, sudden and sure, but just as tender as before. "It's perfect." The words were hummed against her lips.

"Then you like the embroidery?"

"Catherine," his hands clasped her own, "it's perfect."

This earned him one of her rare smiles, one that was his alone. "Only… It's missing something." He laid her tiny hand right over his heart, pausing for her to feel the effect her nearness was having on him. "I'd like a C right here."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The moon was still high as Henry leaned into her, watching her graceful fingers guide the needle and trying _not_ to watch the rise and fall of her chest.

All at once, a lighthearted smile curled his lips, catching his little wife's eye as she glanced up from her work. "What is it?"

"It's just that... I have a wife." Henry, who had been reared on neglect and rejection, was overwhelmed by her tender nurturing. His smile grew and he shook his head. " _A wife._ It's just so hard to believe."

Catherine did not share in his joy. Her lips pressed together, nervous fingers picked at her most recent stitches. "Perhaps…Perhaps it's hard to believe because we haven't been… _together_ as husband and wife in some time."

Understanding coloured his cheeks. "I wanted to be sure you were ready before we were _together_ again. Last time…"

"I'm ready. I'm always ready to perform my duty as your wife." Despite her detached tone, Henry could tell that she was sincere and that made it all the worse.

"But I don't want it to be a duty. I want you to enjoy it _._ "

She looked up at him as though he spoke in riddles.

"Catherine, I know many say it's indecent, unnatural for women to like… _it_. That it's about heirs and not desire." Her silent fidgeting made him even more nervous. "But Diane says that many women find it pleasurable if it's done right."

Finally, she looked at him, but Catherine offered him no smile, rare or otherwise. "Diane?"

"Yes, Madame de Poitiers. She was my governess."

" _Your governess?"_ There was a sharpness to her tone that he didn't understand. He was unaware that this was not the first his wife was hearing of Diane. That upon their betrothal, her uncle had informed her of the woman who already held her husband-to-be's heart. A woman, her uncle said, whose beauty she could not hope to rival. As the weeks since their union passed with no sign or word of the woman, seeds of doubt had lain dormant in Catherine's heart, but that one slip from Henry had them springing to life. "Your governess discusses such things with you?"

"I asked her. I wanted to-" _Impress you._ "To make you happy."

Catherine lowered her gaze. Her family had instructed her carefully on how she was to behave in the bedchamber. Greater emphasis had been devoted to ensuring she would not struggle or cry, but Pope Clement had also cautioned her against seeming too eager. Only whores, he said, moaned and keened at a man's touch and here her husband was insisting she behave like a whore, all because the other woman in his life suggested it.

"I believe that these women Madame de Poitiers spoke of are not wives."

"Catherine, I want very much to be with you as a husband, but I won't. Not like that. Not like it's joyless drudgery." His mouth was a firm line.

Catherine's heart sank, but she nodded. "Then we shall try it your way." _Madame's way._

"You're sure?" He wanted to believe the smile she manufactured for him.

"I'm not sure how to… _proceed_ , but," she took a cleansing breath, "I'm sure." _Sure that I must._

Drawing on his earlier success, Henry kissed her slowly, gently, feeling his own body relax as her eyes slipped closed. Hesitant fingers fumbled to release her hair from its plait, but soon the warm strands of amber spill down over her shoulders. Her gown slipped easily over her shoulders, but when he laid her down, she was shivering again.

She was shaking, but her skin was warm to the touch. Henry's hands halted in concern. He looked up at her, half expecting to find that same vacant look in her eyes and was relieved when he met her gaze. "You're shivering. Should we stop?"

"No." She shook her head firmly, but there was a quiver in her voice.

"Catherine?" He meant to retrieve her nightgown, but she stopped him.

"This is new, that's all."

"I'm nervous, too." He gathered her hands and placed them over his heart once again, this time letting her feel the anticipation thundering through him. "But you can trust me."

* * *

AN: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I don't feel comfortable writing anything more nsfw than this considering they're 14, but I wanted to see how they might've overcome some of the obstacles to intimacy. One thing I love from season 1 is the way Catherine places her hand on his chest when speaking to him and I thought I would incorporate it here with him being the one to place her hand over his heart.


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